


It's (Not) Brain Surgery

by silver_drip



Series: Infinity Earth [5]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Puns, Comic Book Science, Puns & Word Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 01:41:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19163218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_drip/pseuds/silver_drip
Summary: Stephen Strange encounters his (not) friend from his private school days.





	It's (Not) Brain Surgery

**Author's Note:**

> This probs won't answer much of any questions from the last part in the series, but the first chapter of the next story will~
> 
> Edit: I rearranged this piece of the series, putting it before Steve is defrosted.

Stephen Strange was without a doubt the top brain surgeon in the world. He often times attended conferences where he gave speeches and received rewards. Such things didn’t really interest him. He had become a doctor to help people, not that his bedside manner indicated as much. He left the coddling to the nurses since they had far more interactions with the patients than he did. 

He had also become a doctor for his sister—His sister whose life had been cut short by drowning after cramping up. He still had nightmares of trying to swim to her, but never getting any closer. She had always wanted to be a doctor, and with Stephen having no clear inclinations when it came to careers, he had taken up hers. 

Consequently, it also meant he had to meet up with one of his old schoolmates, the weirdest and most annoying one he had ever met. Even worse than the woman in his advanced calculus class who kept flirting with him in hopes of copying off his tests. 

Tony Stark had been in the news since Stephen had been midway through getting his master’s degree. And it had been that way ever since. He was easy enough to ignore, mostly because Stephen could just flip past articles about him in the newspaper. Though, admittedly, he was interested in Stark’s foray into the medical field. Hence why Stephen was seeing him today.

Stark wanted a consultation on a brain procedure that would hopefully treat brain tumors. 

Stephen could have sent someone in his stead, but he was the best at what he did and anyone else might miss something. 

Ms. Potts, a no-nonsense strawberry blond, led him into Stark’s lab. Stephen furrowed his nose in distaste. The large room was littered with machines and gizmos. Every surface was dirty with grease stains and things that Stephen didn’t want to identify. He was used to medical labs where everything was sterilize and the lights were always a bit too bright. 

Stark’s back was turned towards them. He was slightly hunched. A part of his mind catalogued the many changes since he’d last saw him at private school. Taller, broader back, and thick arms. With the same round butt that Stephen had to work to not stare at. 

“Tony, Dr. Strange is here,” Ms. Potts said. She received a grunt in response. Stark didn’t turn around to greet him. Stephen nearly sighed as Ms. Potts left, being of no help. 

He approached Stark. “What do you need my expertise on, Stark?” he asked, failing to hide that he was already exasperated. Once more Stark grunted. Stephen went in front of him. He was working on what looked like a leg brace. Stark didn’t notice him. Stephen reached out and touched Stark’s (grime covered) shoulder. 

Stark nearly jumped in place. “When did you get here?” His eyes were wide before his smile became playful. “It’s like you  _ teleported _ out of nowhere.” Stephen took note of the inflection, but didn’t understand the joke, not that he really cared. 

Stephen cleaned his hand off with a handkerchief. When it came to Stark, the best way to deal with him was just to get to the point and ignore his superfluous chatter. “I’m here for the consultation,” he said blandly. 

“Yes, of course!” Stark put his arm over Stephen’s shoulders, guiding him to another part of the lab. “I’ve heard you’re the greatest brain surgeon of your  _ time _ , Steph.” 

Stephen nearly winced at the old nickname. He’d forgotten Stark called him that. “It’s Doctor Strange,” he corrected, but already knew it was futile. 

“Whatever you say,  _ magic  _ man.” Stark snickered. Stephen considered just leaving. He sighed instead. “I’ll  _ spell _ the problem out for you. I need you to look over some calculations on the volume of the tumor breaking down injection. We don’t want to put too much pressure on the brain as we inject the tumor so I want you to figure out a good calculation on how many doses should be administered in order for the tumor to break down.”

“Each part of the brain is different and can sustain different amount of pressures before blood flow is obstructed.” Obviously. 

Stark nodded, squeezing Stephen’s shoulder. He could feel Stark’s arm muscle flexing against his back. It was far from unpleasant. 

“That’s why I need you to  _ pull a rabbit out of your hat _ and work with all the calculations and data my team has gathered.” Whatever joke Stark was playing at was falling on deaf ears. He’d always had an odd sense of humor to begin with. “I also need your advice on how to reach the hypothalamus safely to administer a cancer vaccine, specifically geared toward four-year-olds and up.” Stark dropped his arm from around Stephen. He had a thoughtful look on his face. “I know that sort of procedure is dangerous and definitely not viable for most people, but I think people in remission or that have a high risk of getting cancer might opt for it.” Finally, they were talking business.

“What would be the point? If your treatment to break up a tumor works, then would the vaccines preemptive effects be worth the danger of the surgery?”

Stark picked up a screwdriver absentmindedly and started twiddling with it. “We’re still working out how to make the tumor breaking down injection affordable. Right now every five milliliters cost just shy of 3 million dollars.” The dollar figure caught Stephen by surprise. There was next to no way a businessman like Stark could ever turn a profit with that sort of cost. Either Stark was burning a hole in his own pocket, or had an inoperable tumor of his own. 

Stark set aside the screwdriver and smiled. With a wave of his hand an Ingenium brand holograph appeared. Data coalesced and Stephen was drawn in. 

“I’ll leave the rest of this to you,  _ Houdini _ .” 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry I haven't really been responding to comments. I've been a bit out of sorts, also I started writing an original story and that's a lot harder :p
> 
> Next Saturday I'll be posting the first chapter of the final story in this series!


End file.
